


what they mean

by mssjynx



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Flowers, Fluff, M/M, Rare Pairings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 16:17:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13593792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssjynx/pseuds/mssjynx
Summary: all flowers have meanings





	what they mean

**Author's Note:**

> super duper rarepair! never heard of any content for it so y'know what: here's some just for you!   
> hope you like it, just something cute and different. 
> 
> inspired by a discord chat + a lot of fun headcannons

Last Monday was white and pretty; layered petals like flakes of marble. The tag read ‘gardenia’ and though he had no clue what it meant, finding the flower sitting on the front desk in the early morning had him smiling through the day.

The Monday before, Marcel found two yellow primroses wearing his name on sticky note in that untidy but friendly handwriting. They sat by the cash register all day and glowed happily at him as he spoke to customers. He smiled every time he noticed them but when he questioned his boss, he only received a cheeky smile and kind eyes. Never an explanation.

He’d received five different flowers over the past month and a bit, always sitting in a little painted pot with his name and the flower’s identity. Each one he’d taken home and they all drank in the sunlight from his bedroom windowsill.

It was always something to look forward to.

His whole week was spent working and thinking. Friendly chatter and teasing was constantly thrown back and forth between himself and his boss as they did their own jobs and spoke to happy customers. Marcel spent spare time studying different flowers, wondering if any he noticed would be the ones appearing on his desk on the coming Monday. He didn’t know when or why but he grew to anticipate the next addition to his bedroom window over the week, excitement increasing from Tuesday to Sunday.

When the day arrived he was out of bed nice and early, getting ready with a bounce in his step. He drove to work, tapping his fingers and bopping his head to happy music. The doorbell jingled as he let himself in, humming the song he’d just been listening to, and eyes immediately jumping to the front desk. His little smile grew to a grin, the store empty of his boss as expected.

Two red flowers were tied together hallway up their steps and potted in a tall pot. They shone at the sight of him, one dark red and the other light. Both flowers complimented one another in their colouring and Marcel grinned at the tag labelled ‘carnations’, running a finger over his name on the blue sticky note. He slid the flowers up beside the cash register where they could sit and watch the day pass by.

-

The Monday was surprisingly quiet as he tidied up shelves and checked the health of their plants. He was only dragged back to the desk to sell four or five times throughout the whole day and not a single customer was rude or ungrateful.

David and Marcel spent the last few hours shuffling around the shelves, David retelling stories of his family and younger cousins as Marcel listened. He laughed along to the other’s dramatic exaggeration, smile settled on his lips at the sound of his favourite accent and thought of the pretty red flowers he would be taking home.

“Hey David?”

His boss hummed from the other side of the shelf as he slid plants around and pulled out old tags, replacing them with new ones. Marcel pulled a random plant up and held it above the shelf between them so the other could see it.

He was curious. “What does this flower represent?”

It only took the other man a second to analyse and come to an answer. “Anemones represent anticipation.” Marcel replaced the flower and continuing down the shelf as he thought.

“So”—he scanned all the names as he went— “do all flowers have specific meanings?”

David appeared at the end of his row, giving him a curious look. “Why the questions?”

“Why no answers?” Marcel shot back, flashing his teeth in a grin as his boss squinted suspiciously before disappearing again into the next row.

After a few long moments, Marcel sighed. If David was good at anything, it was being difficult and not answering questions. He deserved an award for how perfectly he could avoid people and avert conversation when he chose to.

“Yes.” The voice shocked him as he peeked over the top of the shelf at the tall Irishman. “All flowers mean somethin’.”

A smile tugged at his lips at the answer. Every flower Marcel touched had a specific meaning; every flower in the shop had significance to it. Every flower Marcel had received had a meaning to it. But were their meanings anything special or were they just random? He thought through all the names of the six flowers he’d received, coming across some on the shelves he tidied.

He let a few long minutes pass before holding another flower up for David to see. “What does this one mean?” he asked and heard the small huff of a laugh. He could see his friend rolling his eyes and grinned at the thought.

“Peonies symbolise compassion.”

He nodded to himself, even though it was unseen by the Irishman. The shop was silent other than the soft humming of its owner and the little clicking sounds of Marcel’s prosthetic leg.

He came across a primrose, a pretty twin to that that watched the sunrise from his bedroom, and smiled to himself. He picked it up delicately and clicked his way over to David.

“What about this one?” He peeked over the shelf with a cheery smile and waited as David glanced at the flower.

He turned away, thinking nothing of it. “The most popular meaning for the primroses means ‘I can’t live without you’. Most people just say, ‘young love’.”

Marcel’s grin dropped, folding over the connotations of the flower’s meaning in his head. David had given him flowers that had romantic meanings? Did he choose the plants as gifts based on their meanings, or were they just random choices that meant nothing at all?

At his silence, David turned to frown at him. He regarded the confused and shocked look on Marcel’s face. “What’re ye so red about?” he scoffed, turning back to the vase he was cleaning.

“Y-you…” No casual way of saying ‘you gave me a flower that symbolises love’ appeared in Marcel’s mind but his stammering obviously hit a note in David’s head as the man froze, cloth in hand. His shoulders squared and fingers stopped, no longer cleaning away the dirt and grime from thin glass.

When he glanced back at Marcel who had stepped around to the edge of the aisle instead of trying to peak over the top of the shelf. He held the primrose in his hand tenderly and David stared for a second, eyes focused on the happy yellow flower.

“I, er.” He noticeably gulped, blinking up at Marcel. “They, er- primroses um-! They can also mean, er, just youth! Youth and, um- and kids, and j-joy?”

Marcel just blinked. A long few moments passed where the two just stared at each other. Matching red faces, matching racing hearts, matching blank minds. Marcel cleared his throat. “Youth, kids and joy…?”

His voice seemed to snap David out of his alarm and he forced a wobbly smile. “Yup, that’s what I said! They, er, lots of flowers have varying meanings. So, er, depends on the context I guess.” He turned his back to the other too quickly to be casual and busied himself with the vases once again, humming along to a fast-paced tune. Marcel continued to stare at his employer for a few seconds before drawing himself back to the other side of the store. His thoughts clouded his mind as he did his job; checking plant health, organising sections, writing new tags.

Arriving at the front of the store with the displays, he came across a collection of flowers of the same species. They wore varying colours with pride and Marcel tended to them curiously, knowing the two by the cash register were siblings to those in front of him.

The soft humming of his friend and co-worker was calming to his mind as he picked up a yellow carnation. “Do flowers have different meanings depending on their colours?”

The humming silenced.

He found himself slowly organising the pretty bright colours into the order of a rainbow, smiling to himself as he did so.

“Why’re ye asking so many questions today?” It was exactly what he’d already asked Marcel previously yet the repetition was undoubtedly defensive.

“Why are you avoiding them?” He didn’t hesitate.

The soft huff of laughter was followed by another few moments of humming. “Yes, most flowers have different meanings with different colours.”

Marcel picked up a purple flower, squinting at it. “What’s the meaning of a purple carnation?”

The chuckle he heard from across the store had his smile growing. “Did ye ask this many questions in the army?” Marcel scoffed, rolling his eyes and waiting patiently. Sure enough, his answer soon came. “Purple carnations mean unpredictability.”

He hummed as he nodded, moving along the stand to continue sorting through them. The petals were soft under his gentle touch. “What about the green ones?”

“Oh! Ye green carnations represent the glorious St Patrick’s Day!” Marcel threw his head back with a laugh as the strength of David’s accent increased, each word tilted slightly as they dropped from the man’s mouth. The little chuckle that followed made permanence of Marcel’s grin, his laughter dying to giggles as he replaced the green flower.

“White ones?”

The little “Hmph,” of laughter was softer than before, as was the response he received. “Pure love and good luck, the white ones mean.” His usually loud and often littered-with-curses voice was low and smooth as it spoke. Marcel glanced around the stand to where he could see the other man’s back, his fingers softly caressing what looked like a gardenia. A white one.

Marcel plucked the same yellow one he’d taken notice of first from the display once again. He lifted it to his face and sniffed at the floral scent. “Yellow?”

The laugh had once again become careless. “Yellow carnations reflect disappointment and dejection.”

He smiled lightly, glance lingering on the red end of his little flower spectrum. “Why didn’t you give me this one then?” His question was accompanied with a teasing giggle, holding the yellow flower up to examine one more time before he placed it back in its spot. His fingers lingered over the dark and light red carnations. David laughed but whatever comment he had wasn’t fast enough to beat Marcel’s following question. “What about dark red, then?”

The rich colour smiled gently up at him, proud and strong. He definitely preferred the red over the yellow.

“Dark red”—David yawned— “represents deep loh-… learning! Deep learning and… ah… ascending!” His confidence wavered mid-sentence, thoughts seeming to jumble and Marcel frowned at the flower.

“Deep learning and ascending. That sounds dumb.” His words spilt from his lips as he peered down the aisle in front of him to the flowers chattering happily to one another. Maybe they were just random choices. “What’s light red?”

The Irish man seemed to stutter. “Err… Ad… admi…- Adoption!” His tone jumped with excitement upon finding the word he was looking for and Marcel snickered.

“Adohption,” he mimicked with disbelief, rounding his sounds to try and impersonate the thick Irish accent.

“Oi, quit repeatin’ me, you dick! I wasn’t finished; it’s, uh, adoption of good… good thoughts! And experiences?” His rambled thinking provoked further giggling from Marcel who replaced the flowers and finished his organising.

He opened his mouth, ready to tease his friend further only to hear the doorbell jingle from behind him. When he turned, the perfect ‘little old lady’ stereotype stood just inside with a soft smile and gentle eyes.

A grin lit up his face, thoughts of the flowers pushed away as he held out a hand to welcome her into the shop. “Good evening, ma’am, come on in,” he encouraged, stepping away so she could see the shop a little better. Her smile deepened, accenting the age around her eyes as she hobbled forward, putting her weight on the fancy red cane in her hand. She wore a red handbag over one shoulder, and her lips were painted to match. He stepped up beside her and she took his hand, allowing him to lead her forward. “Are you looking for anything in particular, or just browsing?” he asked, voice and face soft and welcoming.

He didn’t notice David watching from the side, little smile on his face as his employee handled the older customer.

“Oh, thank you, young man. I’m actually just looking for some happy flowers, anything yellow and sweet will do – a friend of mine is having her birthday and she always loved flowers,” she explained, weathered voice weak but pleasant. She looked over the flora to her left and right as Marcel guided her to the front.

He smiled genuinely as she got a hold of the counter and nodded. “I’ll see what I can find for you, Ma’am.” A body blocked him when he turned. The Irishman grunted as Marcel stumbled back a step. “Shit, you scared me.” He placed a hand to his chest as the woman giggled behind him. A bouquet was pushed into his hands, filled with pretty flowers that varied from pale yellow to bright yellow to orange. They were decorated perfectly and Marcel knew the owner of the shop had put it together in a matter of seconds.

He took the bunch of flowers tenderly as David smiled at him, rolling his eyes before turning away without a word. It was something Marcel admired: the Irishman didn’t always find the need to speak. Though others might make assumptions and poke fun at some of the silly things he said and his loudness, when it was calm and quiet in the shop, the two men could work alongside one another for hours without finding the need to speak.

Words weren’t always necessary for the two to enjoy being around each other.

He put his mind back to the task at hand, turned and walking around the other side of the bench with the bouquet. His hands worked automatically, tying the plants tighter together and wrapping them in pretty red plastic, with a clear bag of water around the cut stems of the plants to keep them alive.

The woman glanced at the bouquet but seemed more interested in the two flowers sitting by the register. Marcel smiled fondly. “Carnations.” She sighed. “Such pretty flowers with such different meanings. My husband would always give me the red ones… Red carnations; I loved them more than any other flower.” Her words were wistful, eyes cloudy as she drifted back to another time. But the mention of her spouse had Marcel’s curiosity peaking.

“Really? How come the red ones?” he inquired. His eyes were drawn to his co-worker further behind the woman who snapped his head around the stare with wide eyes at the conversation. Marcel frowned, raising a brow as the woman laughed, unaware of the silent confusion and panic shared between the men.

Her touch was gentle, hands shaking as she caressed the pretty flowers. “The dark red means love; deep love, and the lighter red means… oh, what was it again?” She thought for a second as Marcel listened, frown deepening with confusion. Deep love? That wasn’t what David had said at all. She lit up, dragging his attention back. “Admiration! Admiration, deep love and affection. That’s what these pretty flowers mean. They’re so beautiful – did you receive them as a gift?”

It took Marcel a few long moments to try process what he was understanding. Did David lie about those flowers? If he did, why bother and why was he even giving them to if they were referring to romance and love? He lifted his eyes but the other man had vanished down the aisle out of sight.

He tied the plastic as he thought for a second, realising the old lady was waiting for an answer. “I, er- y-yeah, they were a gift.”

Her smile widened, looking ever-gentle but excited. She leant in close and lifted a hand to wave over her shoulder. “From that handsome man back there? He’s been sending you quite the message then, or I should probably say asking you quite the question.” One pale eye closed in a wink, her voice too quiet for David to hear from where he’d hidden away at the front of the shop.

He felt his cheeks heating up and the woman giggled, pulling money from her purse. He rung up the purchase and nodded to affirm her suspicions. Her smile was satisfied and her eyes twinkled with wise amusement. She leant in again as she passed him the payment. “You’re a pretty handsome boy; if I were you I’d be answering his question sooner rather than later,” she whispered and he bit his lip to try hold back his smile, blushing. “I think it’d be best to, ah, use the same _language_ if you get where I’m coming from.” A giggle finished off her encouraging words and she stepped back from the counter. “Thank you so much, my dear friend will love these.”

He skipped around the bench, holding the flowers for her and slowly escorting her back down to the front of the shop. David stood, busying himself with the bouquet flowers, the one glance he spared to the two of them wearing wide eyes and rosy cheeks. His back turned the moment after and Marcel felt heat buzz all over him.

The door jingled, held open to make way for the woman who allowed Marcel to tuck the flowers into her handbag. She smiled, thanking him again and leaving with a loud statement of, “Your store is lovely; you and your boyfriend have done a fantastic job!” and a cheeky wink as Marcel gaped at her.

He watched her walk away, small hand covering her giggling lips as she made it to her car and drove off. The last words hung in the air of the room, inescapable.

“So…” Marcel spun around slowly on his heels. David kept his back stubbornly to him and through his fluster and confusion, a fond smile crawled onto Marcel’s lips. “Deep love and admiration?” he asked.

David grunted, and he found himself biting his lip to stop his giggle.

Uncertainty still clouded most of his assumptions but as he walked back to the front desk and leant on the old blue bench, a smile lit his face as he played with the soft red flowers. They giggled under his touch. David had given him romantic flowers, _knowing_ they had romantic meanings and implications.

The thought made him smile and it took him five minutes of wondering what other romantic flowers he could leave for David to find before he actually realised he liked his co-worker. He _romantically_ liked his co-worker, and wanted to leave _romantic_ flowers for him. He wondered if it was possible to ask someone out with flowers, wondered if David would say yes.

He knew questioning the man about any of it would get dismissed huffs and grunts, so he spent ten minutes on his phone searching for romance-associated flowers, glancing up here and there to see David finishing up around the shop.

By the time the Irishman drew close to the front desk, Marcel was humming to himself down a different aisle. He felt the curious watch but didn’t glance over his shoulder as he found the flower he was searching for. It hid in his hands as he rushed out the back, finding a small red pot and filling it with dirt. Humming filled the greenhouse-like room as he re-potted and found a sticky note, grinning to himself as he wrote down David’s name with a small smiley face and an even smaller heart.

“What’re ye doing?” He jumped at the voice, turning to see David watching him suspiciously. The plant was cold in his fingers, hidden behind his back as the Irishman drew closer. Marcel could tell he felt uncomfortable but he was always known as curious.

“Nothing.” His smile was innocent and the two could hardly look at each other.

David strode up to him, pretending his cheeks weren’t aflame as he nudged Marcel aside to show off the empty bench. It absorbed his suspicious glare as the other man slipped away.

“Well, thanks for today, and thanks for the flowers! I best be off, see you tomorrow!” The enthusiastic and rushed farewell echoed from the main shop as Marcel collected his things, holding his own tall pot carefully as he heard David’s footsteps returning to the main room.

He threw a grin over his shoulder as he ducked out the door, and the image of David holding the red pot with the pink flower, eyes wide and lips parted in disbelief painted itself to Marcel’s thoughts.

The ambrosia flower was a perfect fit and when he arrived at work the next day, he found David waiting for him with pink cheeks and nervous eyes, holding a yellow daffodil. When Marcel stopped in front of him, both men shrouded with uncertainty, he blushed as the flower was pushed almost into his face.

“Yellow daffodil,” David forced out, sounding nervous beyond belief. He stared at the flower instead of Marcel as he continued. “Represents new beginnings.”

He took it with a smile and a nod, accepting a coffee date the coming weekend. His windowsill soon became too small a home for his collection of flowers and, instead, wandering through his house would show at least two or three plants per room.

They were his favourite decorations.

-

_  
the ambrosia flower symbolises returned love_


End file.
